Seventeen years and 58 seconds
by Steph05
Summary: Rogue's coming of age. Finding her place in life, with the X-men and Logan. Final six chapters! Hope you liked it! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! They really kept me going!
1. Prologue

17 years and 58 seconds  
  
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If you didn't feel the chemistry, the electricity between Rogue and Wolverine in the movie, don't bother reading any further - this isn't the story for you!  
  
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Disclaimer: Of course I don't own the characters, I'm not that old! I'm just using them and playing -'what if'  
  
  
Background: In the Marvel comics, Rogue did put her boyfriend in a coma, but was raised by Mystique, not rescued by Prof. X. Rogue was a bad, bad girl and offed a good super hero named Ms. Marvel. By holding on to Ms. Marvel too long Rogue absorbed Ms. Marvel's powers permanently. She got the ability to fly, super human strength and near imperviousness. I find these attributes make her a real crime fighter more than just the absorption of powers. So for this story I'm including this aspect.   
For those who care, in the comics, Wolverine has a long time thing for Jean, but Jean marries Scott. Jean later 'becomes' the Phoenix. Phoenix becomes Dark Phoenix and kills entire worlds. Billions of people die because of her. Dark Phoenix is killed. Scott hooks up with Storm. (Guess that's why I've never been a big Jean Grey fan). Rogue is supposed to hook up with Gambit. Loves him, leaves him and then kicks it with Magneto. Yeah right. That's not happening in this story! :)   
  
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My name is Rogue. My real name is Marie. If you know me as Marie, you're probably my friend. If you know me as Rogue, you're probably my enemy. Through a blip in Nature and my own personal genetics, I've developed a special ability that doesn't show up on one of those funny home video shows. If my skin touches your skin I absorb your strength, memories and some of your personality - depending on how long I touch you.  
  
I've been asked, from time to time, how I deal with my 'power'. I have to admit, I wasn't good about it. In fact, I can't think of how I could have handled it worse. Now that things have quieted down alittle, I'm taking the time to reflect on my life and the different turns it's taken.  
  
I came to live with X-men and Prof. X. when I was 17, 4 long years ago. Like many mutants - god that word still hurts, even when I use it - my 'power' awoke when I was trying to deal with puberty. I kissed my boyfriend one day, two hours later I'm watching him through two inches of glass in the ICU ward of our local hospital. *I* did that. He was just a nice guy who wanted to kiss me and now he was in a coma, his parents and mine were crying in the waiting room.  
  
If you've never been on the receiving end, you have no idea how much pain can be directed at you just through someone's eyes. Cody's parents - Cody, yeah, that was his name - looked at me like I was Adolf Hitler, reborn. They glowered at me and wished me dead in their heads. I know because I wished the same thing. It didn't matter that it was an accident, that I didn't mean to hurt him - that I couldn't control it. It mattered that I was different - not just regular different but the kind of different that would define every single second of my life from now on. I wasn't Marie anymore. And they weren't Marie's parents. I was a mutant. Now and forever.  
  
Of course I ran away. As a teenager facing the most life-altering problem of my short life I did what teenagers seem born to do. Run away. Run far away and hope the problem doesn't find you. Smart creatures, teenagers. But as Fate would have it, I ran exactly where I was supposed to go.  
  
If YOU had a 'problem' with your skin and wanted to keep covered up, where would you? Why up North, of course! Cold weather that begs for gloves. So I hitched to Canada and met Him. I was in a dive like so many others, trying to nick some money or get another ride to a bigger city. Apparently they didn't have cable in this fine establishment because their form of entertainment was bare fisted boxing. The appeal became clear to me, at least, when I saw the main attraction. If you'd been able to bottle pure maleness - virility, machismo, the kind of hunkiness that makes you want to scratch your nails down his chest - this man would be your main supply. He stood in the steel cage - a caged animal - and snarled at his opponent. I watched the local yokels throw themselves and their money at him in an attempt to beat their chests and proclaim "I am Man!". This man, however, was more man than all of them.  
  
At the time I was young, broke, cold, and frightened - both of myself and the world. I was waiting for the next leg of my trek to unveil itself when he came to the bar to claim his money and a cold beer. Up close I added another thing to be afraid of. I couldn't take my eyes off him which turned out to be a good thing when those local yokels came back for some of their self esteem and money. I made some kind of warning about the impending knife in his back and was suddenly shown exactly why he won those fights.  
  
The 'he' in question? Wolverine, of course. Ah yes, you've heard of him. The hair, the claws, the snarl, the attitude. What's not to love? After he dispatched the locals, I hitched a ride with him. We met up with a roadblock with fur named Sabretooth who killed Wolverine's truck and almost me. But because we - both Wolverine and me - were being monitored by the computer to end all computers, Cerebro, two X-men came and helped us - ok, helped me. Wolverine has always been able to take care of himself. They took us to upper New York state to a gorgeous estate that was converted to school for 'special' people like myself and Wolverine. I find it ironic now, looking back on that day, that I met the man who was the most calming influence on my life, and the man who would disturb my life - even my dreams - in ways I couldn't begin to imagine. Professor X runs the school for mutants and believes that humans can accept us one day. Sure they can accept us, why just look at the progress they've made with lesser mutations - birth defects, skin color, etc. (Sarcasm, did I forget to mention it's my mental crutch? A side effect from something that happened later, I'm afraid. Explanation to come.)  
  
In the short time Wolverine spent with us at the school, I connected with him more than anyone else. I tried for the longest time to figure out why. Why him and not someone my own age? Maybe because he was what I wanted to be, fierce, independent, a loner. I know the power I've got mandates me being alone. Perhaps I was drawn to him by something more primal, like the fact that he's gorgeous!  
  
Plus, there were those two ... incidents. When our skins touched. Once by my choice, once by his. (Note to the wise, NEVER disturb Wolverine when he's asleep [and if you do wake him the middle of the night, you'll answer to me!]). I admit I was drawn to him in the middle of the night, wanting to be close to him. I called his name and he woke up, claws first - into my chest. In the wanning seconds of my life I touched his skin and absorbed his ability to heal myself. Of course it knocked him out, but we both lived. The second incident I'm sure you know the broad details of - Magneto, Statue of Liberty, mad scientist kind of stuff. Anyway, I was dead. Dead from that stupid contraption. And Wolverine saved me. How much simpler can I say it? He offered up his own body and strength to save me. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, but it was big deal to me. I was learning about the other things I get from skin contact. Like memories and bits of personality. Wolverine, at least a part of him, is living inside me. I'm sure it's killing him to be trapped by two X chromosomes, but tough. I gained a big insight into him after the second touch - his sense of humor, his sense of loyalty and justice.  
  
But true to his restless nature, he needed to leave. The Professor, so good at helping those of us afflicted with too much of a good thing, was helping Wolverine to recall some of his past. I knew how much Wolverine wanted to recall his past. I however, wanted to escape mine. I needed a future, a reason to live, not a way to keep remembering the people I've hurt.  
  
You've stayed with me this long, bless you. My story is about to begin ...  



	2. Darkness

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 2  
  
  
Logan had been gone for about eight months when I started my dark slide. The two times I had touched Logan had affected me more than I wanted to admit. It turns out that aside from some of his favorite curse words, I'd also picked up some of his memories. Memories of an intimate nature. Puberty has always been a bitch, but throw in the power to hurt someone when you're trying to be intimate and you've got a whole new set of problems.  
  
Everywhere I looked at the school I saw couples hooking up. Holding hands, snuggling, hugging, kissing. If I thought it'd been   
difficult back home, it was twice as hard now. Now I had Logan's memories - memories of sexual encounters with women - surging through my head. I saw Scott kiss Jean's neck once and I got a flash of Logan kissing a woman on the neck. The memory was so strong I could almost taste the sweat glistening on Logan's skin. Cold showers weren't helping anymore.   
  
As I embraced my awakening sexual needs, the knowledge of my deadly skin caused me to spiral into a depression. No matter how many times the Professor tried to tell me it was a gift, I knew the truth. I was cursed. My skin was a weapon. My body was a tool. A tool for destruction and devastation. The Professor did try to help me - I'll always love him for that - but young female angst just wasn't his specialty. He once suggested I talk to Jean. He didn't need to read minds to understand how I felt about that suggestion. Jean wasn't at the top of my friends list and I was in no mood to listen to *her* tell me how a woman feels around a man.  
  
Yeah, I knew about Jean and Logan's flirtation. Yeah, it bothered the hell out of me. That 'tell her my heart belongs to another' line he'd said soon floated around the school and back to me. As time went on, just the sight of her caused my blood to boil. Logan was attracted to *her*? She always look like she just finished eating something rotten. My Logan wanted her and not me? Of course he did, silly. He's a grown man and he thinks you're just a kid. He sees Jean as a grown woman, closer to his own age, beautiful - oh yeah, and she couldn't kill him by having sex with him. Gee, that's always a plus!  
  
So that left Ororo - Storm - to talk to. She was nice, listened to me when I needed to vent. She was more like an older sister. When I started crying for no reason, she suggested I start keeping a journal. I'm thankful for that journal because it's helped me to understand where I was, and where I wanted to go. Eventually, even Ororo admitted that I might need professional help. The Professor reluctantly hired a therapist for me.  
  
The delicious irony of the therapist was that just her -being- at the school drove me over the edge, into full blown depression. The other students knew about my moodiness. They knew about my anti-social behavior. But a person with a 'super power' needing a shrink? That was a joke to them! *I* was a joke! They avoided   
me in the hallways, stopped inviting me to nights out at the movies. They whispered things they thought I couldn't hear. But I heard. I knew what they said about me. Crazy. Don't get close to her.  
  
My therapist, a middle-aged woman with no special abilities except for her super sonic throat clearing, prescribed Zoloft, an anti-depressant, for me. This must be the end of living for me, I thought. Now I was a lonley zombie roaming the halls.  
  
journal entry:  
~No one talked to me today. No one. I'm crying now and can't seem to stop. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter anymore. What kind of future do I have?~  
  
My therapist changed my medication when I stopped eating.  
  
journal entry:  
~Yesterday I stared at my hand until I almost hypnotized myself. My skin looks so harmless. Did God damn me to a life alone? Why doesn't He love me? Why does God want me to hurt people? I don't want to hurt them, I just want to be loved. Why can't I stop crying! Stop it! Stop it! Why me? Someone designed me to kill. I'm a tool. A weapon. A killer.~  
  
The Professor became concerned when I stopped coming to classes. He came to visit me in my room, his face pained at the sight of me.  
  
"Oh Marie." he said. I closed my eyes and the tears rolled down on their own. I didn't get out of bed the entire time he was in my room. In fact, I hadn't been out of my room in a week. The Professor spoke in a quiet, comforting voice and I pretended to listen.  
  
"I'm sorry" I whispered.  
  
He touched my hair softly and left the room. I knew my time was limited now.The Professor was going to do something drastic about me, maybe even hospitalize me. I had lifted a bottle of sleeping pills from my therapist's office last week and hid it in my room. Now was the time. I pulled out three letters along with the pills. One was to my parents, apologizing for my failure and thanking them for their care. A picture of my parents was on my dresser. I started crying again when I realized that I couldn't remember what my mother's touch felt like. I knew she smelled like vanilla and used to tell me wonderful bed time stories. But I couldn't remember her touch and knew I'd never get the chance again.  
  
The second letter was to the Professor, thanking him for all of his work to help me.  
  
The last letter, and by far the longest, was to Logan.  
  
"Logan-  
  
We made quite a pair, you and me. Me, incapable of basic human   
contact. You, unable to stand basic human contact.  
  
I know you think I'm just a kid, Logan. But I'm not. I'm a woman with a woman's needs and desires. Desires for love and physical affection. Who knew my own body would turn against me? Deny me the one thing that would make me whole?  
  
But I'm tired, Logan. Tired of seeing what I can't have. I'm cursed, you know. Everyone else has gifts, something to treasure and feel pride for. Not me. My skin hungers for other skin - not for pleasure, but for pain. It was bad enough when all I felt was puppy love. Now, after knowing you and touching you -for a total of 58 seconds- I know 'this' isn't enough. It isn't enough for me to think about the man I want and not touch his face. It isn't enough for me to love from afar and hope one day I'll be able to bear a child that one day might hold my hand without fear. It's not enough anymore, Logan. I'm done. 17 years and 58 seconds of life but I was only really alive for those precious seconds with you.  
  
I never wanted to save the world. I only wanted what other women want. Love, affection, companionship. Hope.  
  
Ask yourself if you could live without feeling someone's touch. A handshake, a hug, a kiss. Ask yourself if you'd WANT to live without these things.  
  
I don't.  
  
In the next life, I fully intend to find you and spend the rest of my life making up for what we didn't get to do in this one.  
  
Here's to what might have been.  
  
Love,   
-- Marie"  
  
I left the letters on my bed and picked up my stash of pills and a   
bottle of water. Sneaking through the school at night is an art. When someone says "The walls have ears" that's exactly right here. With all the different powers living under one roof, it's nearly impossible to get away with anything - from a midnight snack to finding a place to end your life. But if you want it bad enough, you can find a way.  
  
I had a picture in my mind of how I wanted to be found. I wanted to look like I was at peace. Because really, that's all I want. Peace from my torment, peace from my life of looking but not touching.  
  
There's a bench at the edge of the school grounds that overlooks a beautiful lake. I sat down with the pills and stared at the label. I wolfed down a handful of pills followed by the water. They tasted chalky and I nearly choked on the aftertaste. Once they settled in my stomach, I took another handful.  
  
The sounds of the night sang to me as I curled up on the bench, waiting for oblivion. I smiled as thoughts of Logan came rushing to my mind. I imagined what it would have been like if he loved me and I wasn't a freak. The picture was so clear in my head that I started crying with happiness. He'd smile at me and I'd run into his arms. He'd twirl me around and kiss me so passionately it'd take my breath away. I'd lay my head on his bare chest and feel his heart beating - beating for me.  
  
I sighed at the perfection of it.   
  
I struggled to keep my eyelids open as the pills started to kick in. At last, I thought. As my eyes closed I caught a glimpse of a shadow moving to my side. Oh no, someone's seen me. They're going to ruin everything! I tried to sit up and see who was spoiling my going away party. I was woozy from the effort and swayed side to   
side on the bench.The shadow has now moving directly toward me.  
  
"Go away." My voice was barely a squeak. I shook my head and tried again. The shadow now had form. A man, my brain registered. Oh crap, Scott? Damn!  
  
"Let me be. Go away" My words were slurred but my intent was clear as I waved an arm in the shadow's general direction. Suddenly I had no strength left. The pills had worked. I closed my eyes for what I thought was the last time.  
  
"Sorry, babe. I can't let you do this."  
  
What? That voice! It can't be! With every bit of strength I had left, I opened my eyes. I felt the sensation of being picked up, cradled in someone's arms. My head fell backward and I could finally see who was carrying me.  
  
Logan.   
  
I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment. Logan's face and   
his voice would be the last things I'd remember. 


	3. Light

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 3  
  
  
~Logan. Logan came for me.~  
  
~Wait, I'm alive!~  
  
I opened my eyes slowly and squinted in the semi-brightness. I turned my head and saw I was alone in a room. A small room with light shinning through a window to my right. It seemed vaguely hospital-like but not so sterile, and wholly unfamiliar. I tried to take in the following bits of information:  
  
I was not dead.  
  
Logan had come back for me.  
  
Logan came back and saved me.  
  
Oh no, I groaned, if he's back then he's read the note I left. How am I going to face him now? I rolled on to my side and curled into a fetal position. As my mind raced with all of these new possibilities, I drifted back to sleep, the quiet sounds of the room hushing me to sleep.  
  
When I opened my eyes again, it was now dark outside. I tried to sit up and managed a half lean, half sit. I was starving and my mouth tasted horrible. Stomach pump. They'd pumped out the pills from my stomach to save me. How embarrassing! This is not how I had wanted things to be.  
  
I was just about to get out of bed when I heard the door open. I looked up and watched Logan walk in. A grin from ear to ear leapt across my face and I tried to sit up straighter. He smiled and walked closer.  
  
"How ya feeling, kid?"  
  
"Like I swallowed an elephant and then threw it back up." I smiled, trying to be charming, self-depreciating. I ran a hand through my hair quickly, self-consciously and realized I was still wearing my gloves. I stared at my gloves and realized nothing had changed. I was right back where I started with my skin, only now he knew how I felt ....  
  
"You gave us all a scare, you know." There was concern in his eyes and I felt a small surge of happiness. Was it real concern for me?  
  
"Sorry" was all I managed to get out. I waited patiently for him to speak next, afraid I'd spook him if I started asking questions.  
  
"Ya wanna talk about it?"  
  
My heart leapt. He WANTED to talk to me?!?! Stay calm, Marie. I shrugged and watched him pull up a chair next to the bed. He sat in the chair and crossed his legs.  
  
Something immediately started going off in my head. A warning. Something was very wrong here. Frowning, I looked around for something out of place. Logan was watching me intently. I tried to think but my mind was still kind of fuzzy. I felt like I was trying to push my way through water to get to something important.  
  
"Ummm. Where am I?" Good, start slow.  
  
"We couldn't very well take to you a hospital, so we had to keep here, in the mansion. Don't worry, Jean knew what to do."  
  
My cheeks burned with humiliation and a new taste filled my mouth. Jean, my hated rival, had saved me? She'd *known what to do*? That bitch! 'Saves me' from killing myself. All of my plans had gone to hell. I had only wanted peace and now I've got more torment than I had before. Sometimes I wished I had another power, something that I could use to strike back at my enemies. Something that would make people fear me. I grinned at the thought of Jean afraid of me.  
  
"How long have I been here?"   
  
Logan looked outside and said, "Three days." Something was still bothering me but I couldn't put my finger on it.  
  
"Why did you come back?" I asked quietly. I was surprised I'd had the nerve to ask.  
  
"I heard you were having problems. I came back to see if I could help. You know ... what you tried to do ... it's no solution. It's a cop out."  
  
I half nodded and turned my head away as tears welled in my eyes. All the pain I'd be trying to avoid was crashing back on me. My pent up feelings for Logan were threatening to overwhelm me.  
  
"Did you ... find what I left for you?" I asked. The letter to Logan had meant so much to me, my most personal revelations had been in that letter. Logan looked puzzled and then smiled.  
  
"Yeah. Thanks" I watched as he pulled his dog tags out and jingled them. "Well, you should get some sleep now, ok kid? I'll see ya tomorrow." He abruptly left the room and closed the door with a soft click. What surprised me was the *other* soft click. A lock. I was locked in.  
  
I lay back in bed and ran things through. That was *not* Logan! Logan never crossed his legs like a woman! And those dog tags - *I* still had his tags. They were safely tucked away in the lining of my glove. I touched the outline of the tags absently, reassuringly. Exactly where I'd put them.   
  
Don't panic. Think, Marie. Think. The only one I know who can disguise themselves like Logan is Mystique. If I'm with Mystique then the other Brotherhood mutants must be here too. And they MUST be watching me. I feigned sleep in an attempt to think of my options.   
  
I'm in the hands of my enemy and the X-men think I'm dead. Where was I? How long have I really been gone? What does Mystique want with me? Is escape a possibility?  
  
As I drifted off to sleep, Logan's face came to me in my dream. For that moment, I felt safe and not so alone. Be strong, Marie, be strong. Maybe you'll find something worth living for. 


	4. Awakening

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 4  
  
  
The next morning, I felt well enough to get out of bed and shower in the adjoining bathroom. I was just finishing dressing when there was a knock at the door.  
  
"You decent?" Logan's voice called through the door. No, not Logan's voice, I reminded myself. Remember where you are.  
  
"Come in." I sat on the bed and watched Logan stroll into the room.  
  
"How do you feel?" He asked. That smile nearly undid me.  
  
I shook my head. "You can drop the disguise, Mystique. I know it's you."   
  
He raised his eyebrow in mild surprise, but didn't argue. Within moments where Logan had been standing, now was Mystique - her blue skin seeming to radiate in the morning light. I felt a pang of regret that Logan, even the fake visage, was gone. Another reminder of how alone I really was.  
  
She pulled up a chair and sat to the side of me. Non-threatening. Not blocking my exit. Very clever of her. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty. She was eloquent, articulate. I was curious.  
  
"How long were you watching me? Or was it just luck that you happened to catch me so far from the mansion?"  
  
"We had been watching you for weeks. Quite frankly we were getting worried when you stopped going outside and stopped going to classes. I knew something must be very wrong. I was hoping you wouldn't try what you did, but it did give us the opportunity we were looking for."  
  
I was defensive in the blatant reference to my attempt at suicide.  
  
"How do you know what's going on with me? You don't know anything about me." I spoke in a low even tone. I would NOT resort to hysterics.  
  
Mystique actually chuckled.  
  
"What would *I* know about feeling alone? Incapable of human love?" she moved a blue arm in front of me. "Do you think I have men beating down my door wanting to be with me? I have to pretend to be someone else to get their attention, their affection. No, Rogue, I couldn't possibly empathize with you and your pain."  
  
She stared at her skin for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. When she raised her head, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She looked away, disturbed by her own demons, I guess. She quickly stood.  
  
"If you're feeling better, come with me and we'll have breakfast. If not, I can have breakfast delivered here."  
  
"No," I said quickly, "I'm feeling better." Actually I was feeling   
claustrophobic and wanted any kind of new surrounding. Even in the company of Mystique, enemy of the X-men.  
  
I walked out of the room first, Mystique behind me. I was two paces down the hallway when I heard the distinctive sound of glass breaking. When I returned to my room later, the mirror was gone.  
  
Breakfast was a chance to feed my body and my mind as I tried to take in everything I was seeing. Unlike the Professor's new and   
modern mansion, this was an aged castle built of stone. I was directed up a flight of stairs to a large landing, then through a set of doors to a balcony. A table was set with a sumptuous breakfast - at least to my eyes. I started eating with gusto. Mystique waited for a few minutes before speaking.  
  
"I know you're confused and upset but you don't have to be afraid of me, Rogue. I don't mean to harm you. In fact, we have a lot in common. I would like to be your friend. You can stay here as long as you like. You're not a prisoner."  
  
"Why should I trust you? You and Magneto nearly killed me!"  
  
"Magneto nearly killed you. I never wanted to go as far he. I was against his plan, but I was outnumbered. When I saw you and got to know you, I saw a little bit of myself in you. When Magneto was arrested, I decided to keep an eye on you, in case you needed any help."  
  
I nearly choked on the toast I was eating.  
  
"You think I'm like you?"   
  
Mystique smiled to herself.  
  
"Honey, *no one* is like me. What I mean is that I can come closer to understanding your problems better than anyone else. I could help you."  
  
"What makes you think I need or want your help?"  
  
"53 sleeping pills"  
  
We continued to eat our breakfast in silence, mine was shame induced.  
  
"I think I can help you, Rogue, if you'll let me. I think you could learn a lot with the Brotherhood, but you don't have to answer me now. I believe I can earn your trust and teach you things you never thought you could do. Think about it. But while you're thinking about that, think about this ... Wolverine gave you a second chance at life. He took a risk giving so much of his life force to you. I wonder why you're so eager to throw that away. Wolverine gave you a chance to find your place. Don't waste it."  
  
She got up and walked away, leaving me with my thoughts. Damn if her remark about Wolverine hadn't hit me hard. I had taken his precious gift and nearly pissed it away. I'd been selfish, too wrapped up in my misery to see the future. I stared out at the forest which surrounded the castle and considered my options. I had three. One, go back to the Professor. Two, stay here with Mystique and the Brotherhood. Three, run away again. Alone. I was so tired of being alone. And I didn't think I could take going back to a place that reminded me so much of Logan.   
  
I found Mystique at her own personal target range. She was squeezing off rounds with a large handgun, a look of serene concentration on her face. Her accuracy was amazing. I made a mental note of that.  
  
"What's your decision, Rogue?" Survive, I wanted to say.  
  
"I-I-d like to stay." Did I really just say that? "So long as I'm free to leave - whenever I want." I still didn't trust her, but I felt was sincere with me. Maybe I did remind her of herself.  
  
Mystique smiled and I tried to feel good about my decision. She seemed genuinely happy with my choice.  
  
"Excellent! We'll get started with your training tomorrow. Tonight, let's go out and celebrate!" She laughed and pulled me behind her as we went to her room. Her bedroom was spartan containing only a bed, a dresser and a closet. No mirror. She opened her closet to reveal a large collection of stylish clothes.  
  
"We need to find you something spectacular, Rogue!"  
  
For the next few minutes we could have been like any two women getting ready to go out on the town. We laughed about clothes and men. We laughed at our own vanity. I was struck later that something so ordinary would mean so much to me. This is what I'd been missing, what I hadn't been getting at the Professor's.   
  
Mystique chose to change herself into a model she saw in a fashion magazine. She was strikingly beautiful as the model but I somehow missed her blue skin.  
  
"You look good," I said.  
  
"Yeah, but ..." she shrugged and I knew instantly what she was thinking. Would someone love her for herself and not the people she could become? How odd to think of an enemy having such a personal weakness - like my own.  
  
She drove us to a town nearby and I discovered that I was still in New York state. How interesting. We were closer to the Canadian border though and I let my mind wander to Canada.   
  
Logan. Oh damn. Logan. I could feel my sadness coming back to me, like waves. Somehow I'd managed to be depression free for a day but here it came, rushing back to me. I tried to shake it off and have a good time. Damn it, I deserved a good time!   
  
Mystique and I ate dinner and went to a small club without any problems. She'd been generous enough to snag me a fake ID so I got good and plastered. I danced and laughed and generally felt like a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. Almost normal. But you know, life isn't always what you'd like it to be.   
  
When we were ready to go home we found we'd attracted some admirers. Two young men who seemed to be looking for trouble. Mystique brushed them off and went to get her car, leaving me waiting on the dark street. It didn't take our admirers long to find me, alone. I panicked and looked for Mystique but she was no where to be seen.   
  
"Hey baby, where's your friend?"  
  
"Yeah, we just wanna party s'all." They sauntered closer, trying to cage me in. I backed away, frightened.  
  
"Stop it. Leave me alone." I sounded so scared, pathetic. Weak. They continued closer and I became angry. *I* was the one with the power, damn it! They should be afraid of me! As they advanced toward me, I casually removed my right hand glove.  
  
"Come on, baby. Show us what you got."   
  
"Alright" I said, and smiled like I'd seen other women smile. "Come closer. I've got something for both of you." Right then, I wanted them to know fear. Panic. Pain.  
  
They high-fived one another and whooped. I pulled off my second glove like a strip tease and tossed it toward them. As they celebrated what they thought was to come, I came up to both of them and touched their faces with my bare hands. Instantly, their eyes widened as they realized something was wrong. They fell to their knees in pain and I let go. Because they weren't mutants, I drained them quickly. But because I remembered Cody, I knew to let go quicker so that I wouldn't do permanent damage.  
  
As they writhed on the street corner, gasping and flapping like fish out of water, I saw Mystique. She was standing next the car, a smile of approval on her face. She motioned with her head to get in the car and I stepped over the two guys to pick up my gloves.  
  
"Thanks for such a good time, fellas. Let's do it again sometime."   
  
In the car, Mystique was beaming.  
  
"I'm so proud of you, Rogue."  
  
"But I hurt them." I was feeling pangs of regret.  
  
"You DEFENDED yourself. You didn't do anything wrong. You know, that's the problem with that school for mutants. They make you afraid to be who you really are. They make you ashamed of what you can do. Well not here, Rogue. Not with me."  
  
I nodded in the dark of the car and thought about this as we drove back to the Brotherhood. She was right. I'd been afraid of my power. Afraid for so long that I didn't have anything left to look forward to. Well not anymore.   
  
From now on, it's Rogue's time to shine. 


	5. Becoming

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 5  
  
  
When I look back on the time I spent with Mystique and the Brotherhood, it wasn't all bad. Truly, she did understand my angst and isolation. And truly, she did help me find my place, though I would never have ever guessed how and how much it would cost.  
  
With Magneto still incarcerated, Mystique was the head of the Brotherhood again. She had assumed Senator Kelly's position and slowly extracted him from public life. The real Senator Kelly was dead, of course, but she could always pull him out of 'retirement' if she needed his influence somewhere. Like Magneto, Mystique and the Brotherhood believed that the way to power was through humans, not with them. The Brotherhood did not have the respect for humans that the Professor has. The more time I spent with them, the more I understood the differences between these two sets of mutants.   
  
The mutants who find their way to the Brotherhood all have the same thing in common - startling and sometimes grotesque physical mutations that make them obvious targets of discrimination. They all had felt the harsh rejection of humans and returned that rejection with an outlash of their powers.   
  
The Professor's mutants could pretty much all pass for normal. They had powers that didn't draw attention or cause people to stare. Even Scott's visor was passable to the average person. Maybe even a little cool.  
  
And even though I could also pass for normal, I fit more with the Brotherhood than I cared to admit. I had a rage growing inside me that was threatening to take over. I didn't see it at the time, but Mystique was feeding that rage. She believed that once I fully accepted my rage then I'd be a permanent member of their side. She helped me through my depression and taught me how to be thankful for what I did have. But she did these things with an ulterior motive.   
  
She asked me what I most wanted out of life. I told her in generalities but she eventually got me to mention a specific. Logan. I was afraid to bring this up with her because everyone knew of their fight at the Statue of Liberty. Logan had stabbed her and left her for dead. But she showed no signs of being upset.  
  
"Wolverine, eh? I can't say I blame you. He's very good looking... and a good fighter."  
  
"He sees me as a child"  
  
"Well aren't you?"   
  
My glared at her in defiance.  
  
"I am NOT. I'm a woman."   
  
Mystique just shook her head and chuckled to herself.  
  
"You might have the body of a woman, but you're still a scared little girl, looking for a man to protect you." She looked me up and down. "Protect YOURSELF. Don't rely on anyone to come rescue you. Save yourself."  
  
Words I live by, even today.  
  
During my time with the Brotherhood I became proficient at the more frowned upon arts. I became a marksman with handguns, I learned to pick locks with ease and I mastered using and misdirecting humans. Guards, particularly.   
  
Mystique told me that like other organizations, they too need to recruit people. She asked me to evaluate a new member who had joined. I first saw her in the drawing room, talking to Mystique. She was a little taller than me, and a little older, maybe 23 or 25. She was beautiful too. She had black hair, and a curvacious womanly body. But like Mystique, she was marked by her skin. She had greenish tinted skin that matched her eyes. She was dressed in a form-fitting pair of jeans, a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt. I couldn't take my eyes off of her for some reason. She was so oddly beautiful but completely comfortable with her attractiveness. When she walked, she swayed her hips and smiled at the men, a devilish glint in her eyes.  
  
A femme fatale in living flesh.  
  
Later that evening, we all sat down and had dinner together. She ignored me and talked to Mystique and the others. She told them of her powers and how they could benefit their cause. She had the power of flight, near imperviousness and super human strength. As a demonstration, she picked up a fire place poker and twisted it into a pretzel. Mystique nodded her approval. Mystique questioned me later that evening.  
  
"So what do you think of her?"  
  
"She's definitely powerful, that's for sure. What's her name?"  
  
"She calls herself Siren." I was about to say 'What kind of name is Siren' but I held my tongue. Afterall, what kind of name is Rogue?  
  
"Where's she been until now?"  
  
"Europe. Alaska. Canada. She, uh, claims to know Wolverine."  
  
My head snapped up so fast I nearly hurt myself but I tried to act non-chalant.  
  
"Oh? How does she know him?"  
  
"To quote her, 'intimately'."  
  
Jealousy. It's an ugly feeling. And I was feeling it all over. Logan had been with her?   
  
"Does she know where Wolverine is now?"  
  
Mystique shook her head. "She was last with him about 4 months ago."  
  
I tried to hide my disappointment. The one thing I hadn't mastered yet was a poker face. My emotions were still broadcast across my face.  
  
"Don't worry, Rogue, you'll find him again. And you'll blow him away. He won't know what to think."  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
Siren hung around the castle for a few days and my reaction to her was growing stronger all the time. I'd thought my feelings about Jean were strong, but here was a woman who'd slept with Logan after he left me at the mansion. Bastard! BASTARD! Siren made it worse by talking about those exploits in front of me. She talked about how animalistic he was, how powerful he'd been. It amused her to see me upset. I tried to avoid her, but we were forced together all the time.  
  
Then came my eighteenth birthday. Mystique said she had a special gift for me but I'd have to wait until after the day's workout. The workout was when members sparred with each other in an effort to keep sharp. Today, I was paired with Siren. Oh joy.  
  
The workout area was outside in the fresh air and sun. I welcomed this, even if I didn't want to fight Siren. I didn't know if she knew of my 'power' so I decided to wait and see how she attacked. To my surprise, Siren apparently had no love for me, either. She started off the match by punching me in the head and knocking me down. I got up and brushed the dirt from my butt and tried to ignore the throbbing pain. Siren taunted me, daring me to attack, to show her something. As I moved toward her, she grabbed my arm and flipped me over onto my back, knocking the wind from my lungs. I lay gasping for air as the sound of her mocking laughter filled my ears.  
  
"My god, is THIS the quality of mutants the Brotherhood's attracting these days? What's your power, little girl, the ability to act like a punching bag?" She kicked my ribs and spat on the ground next to my head.   
  
It's hard for me to describe how full of wrath I was at that moment. I was seething with rage as I staggered to my feet. Think, idiot. Think. I clutched my side where she kicked me and put one hand out in front of me.  
  
"Wait, you win. I give up."  
  
Siren laughed and danced around like Rocky. I tried to stand up straight and casually took off my gloves in a show of giving up the fight. I extended my hand and in her excitement of winning, she didn't notice or care that my glove was off. As her hand touched mine, she immediately knew something was wrong.   
  
Siren immediately tried to pull her hand away, but the process had already begun. I could easily control her hand in mine and not allow her to remove it. The smug smile that had lived on her face disappeared from her and appeared on mine. She fell to her knees and begged for mercy but my mind was blurred by anger, revenge. The seconds ticked by and as they did, more of her power flowed into me. But when Siren's eyes rolled back in her head I suddenly snapped out of what I was doing. I don't want to KILL her! I shook my head as though to clear some kind of cobwebs and let go of her hand.  
  
But to my surprise, Mystique appeared out of no where and clamped my hand back onto Siren's with her own gloved hand. I'd held onto Logan a total of 58 seconds, the longest was only 39 seconds. I was well over a minute and half with Siren. Mystique was smiling as Siren struggled against the pain. She eventually made a gurgling sound and collapsed, a dead weight pulling on my hand. Only then did Mystique allow me to remove my hand from Siren's. I staggered backwards, confused, upset, in shock.  
  
"Oh my God, what did I do? Is she dead?" I whispered. My eyes were wide with fright, fear that I'd taken a life.   
  
Mystique touched Siren's throat and then opened her eyelids, one at a time.  
  
"She's not dead. She's probably in a coma." My hand flew to my mouth to cover the gasp. No, what did I do?  
  
"Will she be alright?" I watched as two Brothers carried Siren's body inside.  
  
"I don't know, but we'll watch her. I'm more concerned about you. How do YOU feel?"  
  
"What do you mean? Upset, of course! I didn't mean to - "  
  
"Not that! I meant, can you feel her powers in you? Her strength, her ability to fly."  
  
I didn't want to admit it before, but yes, I could. Physically, I felt fantastic.   
  
"Yes, I can feel them."   
  
"Try them. Go on." Mystique urged me on, eager to see what I could do.  
  
I pushed off with my toes and suddenly I was flying through the air. Tears of joy blurred my vision as I danced in the air. Nothing compares with the joy of flying, soaring through the air like a bird. Storm had been the only other person I knew who could fly and she'd never told me how beautiful it was. I was having so much fun with my new 'toy' I barely heard Mystique on the ground calling me. I made a clumsy two footed landed but my face was beaming with happiness. Mystique was holding a six foot long piece of pipe in her hands.  
  
"Are you ready to see about the other powers? Her imperviousness?" I nodded hesitantly and braced myself as I saw the pipe being swung around to hit me. I felt the contact, but no pain. I opened my eyes to find Mystique laughing. The pipe had bent around my body. Rather than knocking me down, the pipe had bent. I started laughing too. She handed the bent pipe to me and nodded. Siren's strength. With seemingly no effort, I bent the pipe back straight and then into a knot.  
  
"This is incredible! I feel fantastic! How long do you think it will last?" I danced around the grounds, my feet barely touching the ground. Mystique waited until I came back to her to answer. I was giddy and flushed with happiness.  
  
"Last? My dear Rogue, 'this' will last until you die. It's permanent. THIS is your gift. Happy Birthday."  
  
My heart sank like a rock. As high as I had been feeling, that's how low I suddenly felt. No, it couldn't be true. Siren wouldn't recover her abilities? I'd stolen them? Stolen. I was a thief. A villain. I was the bad guy. I shook my head in disbelief and denial. No. No, Siren will get better. She has to. I can't live with that kind of guilt.  
  
Mystique must have noticed my devastation because the next thing I felt was her gloved hand slapping me across the face. I glared at her and saw she was furious at me.  
  
"What's WRONG with you?! I gave you a wonderful gift. You're now one of the most powerful mutants out there! Everyone will fear you! And this is how you react? This is how you repay me? Have a backbone, woman. I've given you the tools to do anything. ANYTHING!"  
  
"At what price? I've destroyed someone. Siren's gone. She'll never be the same again because of me. I never wanted THAT! You've given me tools alright, now I'm more of threat to the people I care about than before. I can't believe you thought I'd want this!"  
  
I stormed away from her and made my way to the infirmary. Siren was there, comatose. I pulled up a chair and stared at her still body. I was responsible. Argh. I rested my head in my hands and felt the tears come. Dear God this isn't what I wanted. I wanted to be strong and independent. I wanted to be a woman and have a normal sexual life. Look where I am. Look what I've done.  
  
I stayed by Siren's side for two weeks, avoiding Mystique and the other Brothers. Siren never regained consciousness. I decided enough was enough. One morning I woke early and packed my bag. Then I snuck down to the infirmary and wrapped Siren in some blankets and a sweatsuit. Once I was satisfied, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. As I climbed the stairs to leave, Mystique met me at the landing. She looked angry and sad at the same time.  
  
"Can I ask what you're doing?"  
  
"I'm leaving. Isn't that obvious?"  
  
"And Siren?"  
  
"I'm responsible for her. I'm taking her to get some help. And help for myself."  
  
"You mean back to Professor Xavier?"  
  
"Yes" She shook her head and a snarl grew on her face. "Coward! You're so weak it makes me sick. You don't have the backbone to help yourself. You have to run back to those people who failed you first time. Run. Run away again."  
  
"They didn't fail me. I failed them. Things will be different now. You did help me. You did show me that *I* have to take control of my future. That's what I'm doing. I'm admitting I need help, but not your help. I'm sorry."  
  
"When we meet again, we will be enemies."  
  
"I wish it could be different, but if you feel that way, so be it."  
  
She was so angry I started to feel guilty. But then I looked at Siren, unconscious, and my resolve strengthened. I stepped past her and launched myself into the air. I wasn't sure how long of a flight it would be but I kept my concentration by studying the landscape as I made my way back to the Professor.  
  
What would I say to him? Would he take me back? Would the others? Did they think I was dead? Would they care that I wasn't? And Logan. Damn Logan.  
  
I recognized the estate from a distance and lowered myself to the ground, next to the bench where I'd almost taken my own life. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the Professor.  
  
~Professor? Can you hear me? It's me, Rogue.~  
  
~Rogue! Where -- Come in! Come in!~  
  
I realized I'd been holding my breath, waiting to see if he'd welcome me back. He sounded genuinely happy to hear from me and that was wonderful news! Still carrying Siren, I walked up the grounds to the main house. Some of the students were outside, either playing or practicing their skills. They looked at me with curiosity - after all, I WAS carrying a comatose woman. Some started whispering when they realized who I was. I straightened my back and continued walking.The front doors swung open and the Professor was there, smiling. Ororo came up behind him, then Scott and Jean. They were all smiling until they saw what I was carrying.  
  
"Rogue, who is that? What's wrong?"  
  
I shook my head to the questions and carried her down to the X-men's medical room. I felt good being back here. I hoped Siren would be comfortable here as well. When I laid her on the table, Jean immediately started checking her out.  
  
"Rogue, what's going on? Where have you been? We thought - Who is she?" Scott was anxious and I couldn't blame him.  
  
"Her name is Siren. She's a mutant, or at least she was. She's in a coma because of me. I-I-I was fighting her, sparring really. But it turned ugly. I touched her. Too long. Way too long. She collapsed, comatose. She's been like this for more than two weeks."  
  
"How are *you*?" the Professor asked, concern written all over his face.  
  
"Physically? I couldn't be better. I absorbed her powers ... apparently permanently."  
  
"Permanently? What were her powers?" Scott asked. I told them.  
  
Dead silence in the room. Was is fear? Fear of me?  
  
"How are you mentally?" the Professor asked, touching my arm.I shrugged as the tears welled up in my eyes.   
  
"She's inside me, you know? Her memories, her thoughts, her personality." I said quietly. "Can you help her, Professor?"  
  
"I don't know, Rogue. We'll see. Why don't you take your bag upstairs and get some sleep. Storm, could you ...?"  
  
Ororo, always so gentle with me, guided me up the stairs and to an empty room. I put down my bag and sighed. Suddenly she hugged me, tight. The tears spilled out on their own and I sobbed.  
  
"So much is different now. I'm so afraid of what I've become."  
  
"Shhhh. Don't worry about this for now. Just get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning, ok?"  
  
I nodded, grateful for the hug and the acceptance she showed me. She finally let me go and started to leave the room. As she was about to close the door, she smiled at me warmly.  
  
"Welcome home, Marie."  



	6. Homecoming

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 6  
  
  
Morning at Mutant High. I opened my eyes and sighed. I was back where I was supposed to be.   
  
I showered and dressed quickly, my mind racing with questions I'd have to answer *and* ask today. When I finished dressing I noticed what I'd put on: jeans,a white shirt and Siren's black jacket. I shook my head with a smile and left the room to find the others. Siren was inside me, I couldn't deny it. I'd have to learn to accept her personal touches.  
  
Walking down the hallways, the old memories flooded over me. The despair and loneliness I'd felt was almost tangible to me. But that was then, I told myself, and I'm not the same person anymore. I passed a couple of students and smiled at them. I can do this. I know I can do this.  
  
I found the Professor with Jean as they were examining Siren intently.  
"Good morning." I said, trying to be upbeat. "How is she today?"  
  
"The same, I'm afraid. No change. However, there is some hope. I've been able to see into her a little."  
  
"Really?" Control yourself, Rogue, I told myself. Don't get your hopes up. "What can I do to help?"  
  
"You could start by telling us what happened. Where have you been, Rogue?" The Professor was sincere and concerned. I had to trust him and hope he'd still trust me after learning where I'd been.  
  
We took a walk around the campus and I talked as freely as I could. I told him how unhappy I'd been, how desperate the situation had seemed. I told him about Mystique and the Brotherhood and all that had happened to me.  
  
We stopped at a bench and watched the students relax on a beautiful summer day. I waited quietly, anxious to hear his side ....  
  
"Scott found your letters that morning. He immediately brought them to me. I read the one to me and then ... I read the others."  
  
I looked away and fought the flush of humiliation that raced up my face. Tears stung my eyes and I bit my lip as I imagined the Professor reading my letter to Logan.  
  
"I'm sorry, Rogue. I didn't mean to break your trust, but we were desperate to find you. I thought there might be a clue in your other letters." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Of course there wasn't. We immediately searched the campus and the surrounding area and even used Cerebro, but we had no luck. We couldn't find you anywhere."  
  
"How long did you look?"  
  
"Three days." I nodded, understanding. Cerebro had been unable to find me while I was unconscious. It was as though I was dead.  
  
"When we couldn't find you, we had to assume that you had succeeded in ..... We had a memorial for you. It was quite lovely. Your parents came." By now the tears were coming quickly. "I gave them your letter and your personal affects." I nodded and wiped the tears from my face. "They love you very much, Marie."  
  
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.  
  
"Did ...Did Logan ..."  
  
"Yes, he came back. When we realized you were gone, we used Cerebro to find him. We found him in Siberia and sent our plane for him."  
  
"But ... he didn't stay?"  
  
"By the time he arrived, we were having the memorial. He gave a very nice speech, you know."  
  
I smiled, trying to imagine him in a suit, giving a speech about me.  
  
"He said you were ... 'a beautiful star that would be missed by everyone'."  
  
"You're lying, Professor. He didn't say that."  
  
"He did! He was very eloquent that day. Very moving."  
  
"Did he get the letter?"  
  
"Yes. I gave it to him as soon as the plane landed. He read the letter and left for a few hours. The next day was the memorial. He left immediately after that."  
  
I frowned at the realization of the pain I'd caused. I'd hurt my parents and Logan. I'd have to set things right - right away.  
  
That night, I left to see my parents. I fly at night because it's less conspicuous. Some people still get spooked seeing someone flying through the air. Consequently, when I arrived at my parents house, it was nearly 10pm. I landed on the sidewalk and tried to calmly walk up to the door. But my fear and nervousness were getting the better of me. How do you tell parents that their only child isn't dead.  
  
I raised my hand to knock but stopped. I was about to turn away when I looked through the front window. There was my mother watching tv. But she was crying quietly.  
  
My heart broke at the sight of my mother crying. I knocked on the door and then stepped into the shadows. Slowly my mom opened the door, but she saw no one there.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone there?"  
  
"Ma'am? I have some news about your daughter." I stayed in the shadows and spoke quietly.  
  
"Marie? She's dead. Please don't-"  
  
"No. No she's not."  
  
"What? I don't know who you are, but please don't do this. My daughter is - "  
  
I walked out from the shadows slowly. Her face went from pained despair, to complete disbelief.  
  
"Marie? Is that really you?"  
  
"Yes, mama, it's me." Without warning she flew at me and gathered me into her arms. Thankfully I was completely covered so she was in no danger as she embraced me. The smell of vanilla hit my nose and I started to cry. "I'm sorry, mama. I'm sorry."  
  
"Roger! ROGER!" She called my father's name and I watched as he rounded a corner and saw me in my mother's arms.  
  
"Marie? Marie?" He embraced us both, my mother and myself. The tears flowed without reservation as we held each other tightly.  
  
I spent the rest of the night explaining what had happened. They listened carefully, trying to understand how my life had changed. I swore I'd talk to them soon and eventually left. Not before my parents, however, told me how much they loved me and made me promise I'd never forget that.  
  
As I returned to the school, my heart was lighter and my spirit calmer. My parents loved me and didn't hate me for my mutation. Life was good.  
  
When I got to my room, there was a note on my bed. It contained a time and a city name. The city was in Canada. The Professor had found Logan's last known location.   
  
Logan, at long last. I couldn't wait.   
  
I packed a backpack, put on a heavier coat and headed off in search of my future. 


	7. Reunion

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 7  
  
  
Searching for a man like Logan isn't as easy as you might think. He's been on his own for more years than any of us know and has mastered the art of disappearing when he wants to. Apparently, he wants to. Despite the help of the Professor, I searched for Logan for more than 4 months.  
  
During those months, I had time to think about what I'd say. I had very important things to tell him, but I wasn't sure how I'd tell him I was still alive. I decided I'd let the circumstances dictate how I told him.  
  
The Professor had given me a satellite phone and some money for my trek. Once I got close to his last know location, I bought an old Jeep and took off after Logan. He had the advantage on me because he went where he liked without cause - north, west, south, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, I became more excited, more nervous.  
  
Eventually I found my way to a logging camp, deep in the north Canadian woods. I checked into a cheap motel in the neighboring town and starting scouting. There were plenty of bars, as I knew there would be. I found out from a bartender that the loggers came to town every Friday to spend their paychecks and get drunk. My luck, it was Friday afternoon. I'd just have to find a spot and wait for him.   
  
Rule #1 when you're looking for someone who doesn't want to be found: Never just 'ask around'. Someone might tip him off, thinking they're warning him against trouble, and then I'd be back to square one. So I laid low and tried to take in the sites, 'sniff' around on my own. The town was small with one bank, one church and five bars. I tried to imagine which one he'd more than likely hit. I didn't have to wait long for my hunch to pay off.   
  
I was sitting in the back of the bar nursing a beer and trying to look bored. Like a stampeed, the men roared into the bar claiming all of the chairs and demanding beers. The waitresses were suddenly swamped when ten minutes ago they were standing around. I waited for the guys to settle in and start their b.s.ing before I'd scan the room. My eyes lept from face to face, searching for the face I knew better than my own. I didn't see him.   
  
Before giving up, I ordered another beer. Just when I was taking a pull from the fresh beer, I saw something. A turn of the head, a glimpse of a profile. There he was! My heart lept and I nearly jumped out of my chair. He was so vital looking, fierce and masculine. So close! I felt the reaction to him throughout my entire body. I finished drinking my beer, my eyes glued on him across the room. He was sitting at a table playing poker with a bunch of loggers. The familiar cigar was clenched in his mouth, a grimace on his face as he concentrated on his hand.  
  
Get up, I told myself. Get up and do it! I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope. On the outside I wrote my hotel name and my room number. I laughed at myself when I saw my hand shaking a little. So close. So close. Don't blow it. I went over to a waitress and tipped her generously to deliver the envelope to Logan. She agreed and I stepped outside. I could see him through the window, and watched as he received the envelope.  
  
When the waitress came over and gave him the envelope, he frowned and opened the envelope on one end, dumping the contents into his hand. His dog tags made a tinkling sounds as they hit his palm and glittered in the light of the bar. He stood up abruptly and scanned the room, his hand closed tightly around the tags. I turned away and hurried down the street to the motel. When I closed the door to the room, I quickly took off my coat and turned off the overhead light. The room was lit by a small lamp on a table on the far side of the room. Outside, I saw it started to snow.   
  
I didn't have long to gather my thoughts because within a minute there was a pounding on the door. I hid in the doorframe to the bathroom, more than just a little afraid.  
  
"It's open" I yelled. The door swung open and the entire doorway was consumed with his figure. I could feel his energy across the room. He didn't enter the room, just stayed in the doorway.  
  
"Who are you?" His gruff voice was music to my ears after so long.  
  
When I didn't say anything, he stepped inside. I knew he must see my figure in the bathroom, but I didn't come out yet.  
  
"Where did you get these?" he yelled, holding up his hand, the chain from the dogtags dangling. He was growling, angry, fierce.  
  
"You told me you'd be back for them." I stepped into the room and faced him, my eyes glued to his face.  
  
"Who - What?" He stepped closer, coming right up to me. Scowling, he looked me up and down, concentrating on my eyes. He was breathing me in, trying to see if I was real.  
  
"Marie?" He was confused, disturbed.  
  
"Logan" I reached up a gloved hand and touched his cheek. He flinched, then grabbed my wrist. He pulled me closer to the door, checking my face in the light. He put both hands on my shoulders and frowned. Suddenly his face broke and he pulled me into his arms. I held on to him tightly, breathing in all of his smells: the cold, his cigars, the trees, engine grease. I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand stroked my hair.  
  
"Oh god, Marie. Is it really you? How? I thought - The Professor said - "  
  
I raised my head to answer and wasn't surprised to find I was crying. I struggled to find my breath.  
  
"It's a long story. You may want to sit down."  
  
He reluctantly let go of me and sat down on the bed as I closed the door. I paced the floor as I told him the whole story, trying to get it all out before I lost my nerve. I had to pause, however, when I got to the part with Siren.  
  
"Do you remember a mutant named Siren?"  
  
He shrugged, acknowledging in his own way.  
  
"You were ... uh ... close to her? Uh ... I mean ... did you - do you have feelings for her?"  
  
"What are you getting at? What's going on?"  
  
"I - She ... Siren is the mutant I got my new powers from. Mystique arranged it. She called it her 'gift' for my birthday."  
  
"You touched her? You killed Siren?" He stood up, shocked.  
  
"No No! She's alive. She's with the Professor now but she's in a coma. I held on to her too long. Now ..." I shrugged, unable to find the words. He sat back down on the bed, trying to absorb what I was telling him.  
  
"And you got her memberies too ... just like me?" I nodded.   
  
"You got her memories of me?" Again I nodded. The flashes of Siren and Logan in bed together were both exciting and enfuriating. He rubbed his face with his hand.  
  
"I-I don't know what to say. I'm speechless." I started to step toward him when he suddenly spoke, angry. "I mean, I think you're dead for what - a YEAR?! Then you just show up one day, 'Surprise! I'm not dead and oh yeah, I put your old girlfriend in a coma and stole her powers!'"  
  
I was stunned. I faltered back from him. He was so angry, bitter - and I had no defense. He was absolutely right, on all points.  
  
"I'm *sorry*, Logan. Honestly! The Professor and I are trying to figure out a way to help her. Maybe get her out of my head and back into her own."  
  
Nothing. No reaction.   
  
He just sat there, looking at me like he'd never seen me before. The silence was killing me.  
  
"Logan..." I reached out a hand and but he leaned away from me, then stood up. I could feel him slipping away from me. The words started to tumbled out of me. "I felt I owed you an explanation. The truth. I couldn't let you think I was dead - "  
  
"A fucking year?!? A year I thought you were dead! I thought you killed yourself because of me! Jesus! Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you have any idea how I felt? The guilt - And now you tell me you spent all that time with the Brotherhood and Mystique. Well that's just fucking great!"  
  
Enraged, he threw the dogtags against the wall, breaking the lamp and sending the room into darkness. I could barely see him through the tears that blurred my vision. I felt my lower lip trembling as I watched, wide-eyed. I shook my head mutely, unable to accept what was happening.  
  
"I'm so sorry" I said in the dark, but my words seemed to be swallowed up by his anger.  
  
"Not good enough." He brushed past me, opened and slammed the door before I could take another breath. When he was gone, I fell to the floor, stunned.  
  
It had all gone horribly wrong. I had tried to make it right and I'd succeeded only in turning him against me. He'd been tortured for a year, while I had lived comfortably with his enemy. *Was* there any excuse? Was there anything I could say to make things better?  
  
I didn't sleep that night. I had lost my beacon - the one constant that got me through the nights. Logan's affection. Gone. I'd never felt so alone.  
  
  
--  



	8. Resolution

17 years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 8  
  
  
In the morning, I knew I had to talk to Logan again - no matter what. I couldn't let it end this way. I *will* fight for him. (I hoped a small offering of coffee and cheese danishes would give me brownie points.)  
  
Since Logan was working with the lumberjacks, he was living in their apartment building/dormitory. I found Logan's room at the end of a hall and knocked. No answer. I knocked again and called his name. Same result. I tried the knob and it turned easily.   
  
It was a small apartment: a tiny kitchenette, a living room and bedroom. I walked through the apartment quietly. It was messy, dark, sparsely furnished and practically shrieked 'single man lives here'.  
  
I found him in the bedroom, passed out on the bed, still dressed. Four bottles of whiskey were lying on the floor. He snored gently. I put the coffee and danishes on the small table by the bed and called his name again. A loud snore, but he didn't wake up. I was about to touch his shoulder to wake him up when I remembered how he'd awakened once before - claws first - and thought better of it.   
  
I decided to clean up a little while I waited for him to wake up. In the midst of picking up old newspapers, beer bottles and old pizza boxes, I found something surprising. Beside his bed, on the floor, was a piece of paper. A letter. MY letter, to be specific. I couldn't believe he still had it. I picked up the letter and saw it had been folded many times. I got choked up thinking about him reading and re-reading the letter.  
  
I sat on the floor and tried to think what this all meant. Eventually, two things became clear. One, I have the opportunity, NOW, to tell him how I feel and make sure he listens. Two, I'm alone with the man I've been dreaming about for years, in his bedroom.  
  
It's now or never, Marie.  
  
I took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed. I rolled him over slowly until he was on his back, then straddled his hips. I was thrilled to feel the heat of his body through our clothes ... I couldn't resist running my hands up his chest, so warm and firm. I smiled to myself thinking of the things I've always wanted to do to him.  
  
It was my hands on his chest that finally got through his booze enhanced sleep. He started to stir, felt my weight on his hips and slowly opened his eyes. For an instant, he smiled a delicious smile at seeing me. But the moment disappeared and his eyes hardened to me. I quickly pinned his arms down to the bed and he pushed against me but then realized I suddenly had the superior strength. Eventually he stopped struggling against my grip.  
  
"What are you doing? Get off of me. Leave me alone." Our faces were mere inches apart as I held him down. I could smell his breath, heavy with liquor.   
  
"Get out." he growled. I shook my head.  
  
"I need to talk to you." He turned his head away from me, frowning.  
  
"Get out." More forcefully this time. I shuddered at his ferocity, but didn't release my grip.  
  
"'..I was only really alive for those precious seconds with you.'" His head snapped over as I repeated the words I'd written so long ago.  
  
"Stop it." He pushed against me, but I held him down. I needed to continue.  
  
"'In the next life, I fully intend to find you and spend the rest of my life making up for what we didn't get to do in this one.'"  
  
"Stop it! Stop it! You think I don't know what that letter says? I've read it a hundred times. Jesus ... don't ...."  
  
"Every word I wrote is true - still IS true. I never wanted you to feel guilty. I wanted you to understand how much you meant -STILL mean- to me."  
  
I leaned back and released my grip on his arms. My body reacted to our hips moving against each other. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but I knew he noticed everything.  
  
"I have Mystique to thank, of all people, for making me appreciate the amazing gift you gave me." I touched my chest over my heart. "Few people get a second chance ... I've been given a third! I can't waste it."  
  
I leaned forward and kissed him quickly, a peck. For just a fraction of a second, our lips met and then I pulled away slightly. (I had gambled that my power wouldn't kick in on such a short contact, and luckily I was right - nothing bad happened.) His warm breath made my skin flush with desire. I kissed him again quickly and with my face still close, I licked his lips with the tip of my tongue. With my eyes closed, I tried to memorize the taste and feel of his lips.  
  
"Marie" he sighed, "don't. Stop it." he pushed against my shoulders lightly.  
  
"I need you. I want YOU, Logan. Can't you forgive me?"   
  
He shook his head but didn't push against me. I nodded, tracing his face with my gloved finger.  
  
"Forgive me?" I leaned back so that I was straddling his hips again. I pulled his left hand close to my lips and licked a finger slowly. "Don't you want....?"  
  
He reached up and touched my hair, his fingers weaving through the strands.  
"Honey, if we 'could' ... we most definately 'would'."   
  
He smiled as his hand trailed down from my hair, over my shoulder to caress my breast lightly through my shirt. I closed my eyes as the feel of his hands burned through me. Subconsciously, I started to grind my hips against his.  
  
"Ohhh. Don't ... don't stop." I whispered.  
  
Both of his hands caressed my breasts with tenderness and thoroughness. My shirt separated, exposing my bra. He leaned forward and put his mouth on the lacy material. The heat and moisture from his mouth was a heavenly torture. I was on fire and in danger of losing control. Thankfully, Logan brought me back.  
  
"Darlin', if we don't stop now ... you might kill me with 'kindness'" he smiled and closed my shirt, gently. I took a deep breath to calm myself.  
  
"Did you come here to seduce me?" he chuckled as he stroked my back softly.  
  
"I did come with a peace offering." I said. He looked at where I was sitting on him and raised an eyebrow with a leer. I smiled and motioned toward the coffee on the table. Without breaking contact with his body, I leaned over and retrieved the coffee and danishes. I felt his hands on my hips, steadying me as I returned to my original position on his body.  
  
He removed his hands from my hips and used them to push himself into an upright position. Now, I was straddling just his legs. I handed over the breakfast and started to get off the bed. But he grabbed my arm gently, and shook his head.  
  
"No ... stay." I grinned and returned to my position on his lap, facing him. We ate in a comfortable silence. When we finished, he looked at me for a minute, then leaned forward. As I held my breath, he leaned closer and used his mouth and tongue to remove a stray crumb from the corner of my mouth. I felt the sexual pull begin again.  
  
"I ... I should let you get up now." I swung my body off of his and instantly missed the heat, the contact. I stood and tugged my shirt back into place.  
  
"Babe, I've been 'up' for a while now." he grinned and got up out of bed. When I saw the proof of his arousal I nearly lost my self control. He stretched with a playful grunt and took off his shirt. I stared at his bare chiseled chest and was transfixed. I think I might have been drooling when he said he was going to shower quickly. With a lighthearted push, he moved me out of the bedroom and into the living room so he could shower.  
  
When he came out a few minutes later, I could smell the clean aroma of his soap and breathed it in. He was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a red and black flannel shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. I could have torn it off of him in seconds. He watched me checking him out, but didn't comment.  
  
"Do you have to work today?" Casual, I told myself. Keep it casual.  
  
He shook his head and sat on the coffee table, directly across from me on the couch. He looked serious.  
  
"About last night ..."  
"About last night ..."  
  
We laughed at ourselves for each saying the exact same thing and I motioned for him to speak first.  
  
"I'm sorry I yelled at you." he said. "I was just ... it was just a shock to see you. I'm not ... mad at you."  
  
"No. It was my fault. I wanted to see you and talk to you so badly ... I never really allowed myself to think about what you'd been feeling. I'm sorry."  
  
"Hon, I'm glad you found me." He smiled crookedly and my heart melted. He reached over and held my gloved hands in his own. As his hands lightly encompassed mine, I feel a liquid fire run through my body.  
  
"Um, do you want to have dinner together tonight?" I asked.   
  
"The selection of four-star restaurants is a bit sparse up here, you know." I laughed and shook my head.  
  
"That bar, the Brass Mug, is fine with me."  
  
We agreed on a time later that evening and I left as casually as I could without betraying my eagerness. I promised myself I wouldn't smother him, I wouldn't fill my life with only him, so I spent the rest of the day exploring the town. I found they had a library and on a whim, I checked it out. To my surprise, I found myself completely absorbed there until I had to meet Logan later.  
  
---   



	9. Fare_thee_well

Seventeen Years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 9  
  
  
Women are kinda of scarce around logging camps, except for two kinds. One is matronly, married and motherly. The other kind of woman looks like she's been rode hard and put away wet. This second kind usually live in the bars, waiting for the loggers to spend their money on them in exchange for some companionship.  
  
Since I was neither of these kinds of women, I was a curiosity in the bar. A local asked me to dance and I agreed. He commented on my gloves but I dismissed them easily, 'Cold hands'. We danced in the dark bar to some country tune with an easy beat. At the end of the song, I thought I could feel Logan's eyes on me. I thanked my dance partner and returned to my bar stool to find Logan waiting, his jacket off, a cold beer in his hand.  
  
"I'm so glad you're here" I said sincerely. I looked him up and down, assessing his clothes. He was still wearing his well-worn jeans but had changed to a clean black button down shirt. "You look great," I said, my mind adrift with thoughts of him naked.  
  
Small talk, chit-chat, is not Logan's strong point. But luckily, we fell into a comfortable silence. It's rare to find someone who doesn't need to talk to fill silence. He and I were well suited that way. Eventually we moved to a table and set to some serious drinking. I think it amused him to see me drink, since I wasn't as practiced at it as he was. If you've ever been drinking, after the inital relaxation and high spirits, you know somberness will sometimes creep in. This is where I found myself.  
  
"Have you ever wondered about your mutation? I mean, wondered if it could be ... fixed?" I said suddenly.  
  
He looked at me strangely.  
  
"I have," I said, staring at my skin. "Do you know how I spent the day, today? In the library."  
  
"I have a theory about my skin. Wanna hear it?" He nodded so I continued. "I have a theory, that the DNA of my skin has the ability to take over the DNA of someone else's skin. Then, my skin uses that other person's cells to harvest energy and transfer it back to me. As long as there is contact, my cells control the others."  
  
Logan pondered for a moment and then nodded. "A sound theory."  
  
"If I could find a way to turn off my rampant DNA, then I might be able to ...." I looked at him, smiled and shrugged, "...you know."  
  
"And you've been studying this in the library?"  
  
"Well, this library just has basic books, but basics are what I need to understand for now. I-I want to find a cure..."  
  
"A cure? You think it's a disease?"  
  
"Not in the traditional sense, no. But it's a plague to me." I rubbed the back of my hand absently.  
  
Logan, seeing I was upset, tried to confort me by stroking my hair gently. In the flush of the alcohol and my proximity to him, I found my body on fire where he touched me. I leaned closer to him and leered at him.  
  
"You're so damn sexy. I could just eat you up. I want ... to make love with you....so much...."  
  
"I think we should go now."   
  
I stood quickly, a glint in my eyes. "Yes, let's go!"  
  
We quickly walked back to my hotel room and I tore off my coat. When I turned around, I was already unbuttoning my shirt but he had only taken off his coat. I started to pull off his shirt but he stopped my hands.  
  
"I think you should get some sleep, babe."  
  
"We can sleep *after*!"  
  
"Listen to me, honey. I want you too, but not like this. Not right now. It's still ... dangerous... for both us ... you know that."  
  
My face fell and I stepped backward. The euphoria I'd been feeling slipped away and left me cold. I nodded blankly.  
  
"Yeah ... yeah I know. I'm sorry ... I ... forgot. I'm sorry." I pulled my shirt back on and turned away, embarassed at the display I'd made.  
  
"Oh hon, don't. Don't get upset." I felt his hands on my shoulders and he turned me around. "Come on ... lay down. Come on."  
  
I lay down on the bed and watched with delight as he joined me. He lay on his side against me as I lay on my back. He tucked his left arm under my neck and used his right arm to pull me close to his body. He smiled at me, rubbed his cheek against my head and closed his eyes. I thought it was impossible for me to fall alseep with every nerve of mine clamoring at his touch ... but eventually, I did.  
  
Have you ever fallen alseep in the arms of the person you love? I can't begin to describe the peace and ... rightness ... that filled my heart as I woke to him still holding me. I thought my heart would burst at the joy that was overwhelming me.  
  
I watched him sleep for a while until he woke up too. He smiled at me, stretched with a light-hearted grunt, and then pulled me back into his embrace.   
  
"Morning" he said with a squeeze.  
  
"Morning"  
  
His right hand casually pushed my shirt open and started caressing my breasts over my bra. I gasped with pleasure and squirmed closer to his touch. He took his time, leisurely tracing the shape and edges of my bra, making me crazy from the delicious sensations. Eventually his hand skipped down to the top of my jeans. His hand began to rub my hips slowly and when his hand dipped between my legs, I gasped his name and arched against his hand.  
  
Gasps and moans poured out of me as his hand played my body like an instrument. I was restless, squirming feverishly against him. He whispered my name as my first real orgasm rocked my body. I gasped, trembled from the waves of pleasure, and clutched his shoulders fiercely.  
  
As I slowly calmed down, he hugged me gently and kissed my head.  
  
"Is there any way I can convince you come back to New York with me?" I said with teasing admiration.  
  
He smiled, relived that I understood his restless nature, and shook his head.  
  
"I'm sorry, babe. That's ...not my cause back there."  
  
I was stung a little, but I knew he wouldn't come back. I knew it. He must have been wondering how to tell me he wouldn't go with me.  
  
"I'm gonna go back today."  
  
Logan nodded and rubbed my arms slowly.  
  
Part of me screamed in frustration. He wouldn't come back with me? Didn't he care about me? What about the beautiful sensual moment we'd just shared? But the rational part of me knew this was the right thing. A man like Logan won't come to you by pulling ... he comes to you when *he* wants to. Right now, he didn't want that.  
  
So the only thing left for me to do was go back and continue with my own life. My mission, my 'cure' was to be the new focus of my life.  
  
We had breakfast together and took a nice walk together before it was time for me to leave. I packed up the Jeep, paid my motel bill, and tried to find the nerve to leave Logan. I gave him my cell phone number and the satillite phone the professor had given me. He hugged me one more time and then I got into the Jeep. Over the roar of the engine, he quietly said, "Bye."  
  
The words 'I love you' hung on my lips, but I didn't say it. Instead, I smiled sadly and returned his goodbye. Before I lost my nerve, I drove away.  
  
  
---  
  



	10. The New Me

Seventeen Years and 58 Seconds  
Chapter 10  
  
  
Don't think I didn't cry. Oh yes, I did. The drive back to New York was a long boring drive with little for me to do except sing sad love songs and cry at the bittersweet nature of my 'relationship' with Logan. Sometimes I thought I could still feel his arms around me. When I pulled into the school compound several days later, I was resolved to accept how we'd left things.  
  
Several things happened when I returned to the school. I was met by the professor and Scott as I got out of the Jeep. I gave them a brief summary of my trip and told them Logan wouldn't be coming back any time soon. I talked with the professor, then about my hopes for my skin and Siren. If I was going to have any chance to succeeding in finding a 'cure', I'd need the professor's help and resources. To my relief, he agreed with my basic theory and promised to help me.  
  
"And Jean? She'd be glad to help -"  
  
"No thank you, Professor." I said quickly.  
  
"But she's a doctor, she could-"  
  
"*NO* thank you, Professor." I looked at the professor intently. Surely a man with his gifts must know my feelings about Jean.  
  
"Alright, if you say so. I have friends at some hospitals who might be able to help you."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
I went back to my room, showered and changed clothes, and went directly to the medical lab to get started. Stupid me, I should have known I'd run into Jean.  
  
I wanted to be polite so I nodded to her, but continued with my task of looking through some medical books. Jean, being Jean, couldn't leave things well enough alone.  
  
"Marie, you're back! How did it go?" I looked up from my reading and shrugged slightly.  
  
"Pretty good. I found him. We talked."  
  
"Oh that's good. So he's ok, then?" I nodded and returned to reading. "He didn't come back with you? I'm surprised. I thought he'd be back ... come back ..."   
  
"No"   
  
I went back to reading, hoping she'd shut up and leave me alone. She was quiet for a moment and then I felt a prickling, itching sensation inside my head. My eyes flew up to Jean where I saw her 'concentrating' on me - trying to read my thoughts!  
  
I stood slowly, my eyes glued to her. She stopped when she saw me advancing toward her. I tapped my right temple and shook my head.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
As I walked toward her, my anger grew. "How DARE you try to invade my thoughts. Didn't the professor teach you better?"  
  
A metal stool was in my way so I casually picked it up and crushed it like a soda can. Now, suddenly, Jean must have begun to fear me, because she lashed out with her mind to hold me in my tracks, to stop me from hurting her. But I kept on talking, my anger boiling over.  
  
"Do you want to know what your problem is, Jean? You think the grass is always greener on the other side. You HAD Scott, but that wasn't enough for you. No, you had to come on to Logan and see if you could 'get' him too. You have your own mental abilities, but you couldn't resist augmenting them, pushing them farther than you were meant to with Cerebro."  
  
"That's rich coming from someone who STOLE her powers from another mutant!" Her eyes were wide and she struggled to continue to hold me.  
  
"Jealous, Jean? You're jealous again, aren't you? What happened with Siren was an accident, everyone knows that .. but you, you deliberatly find ways boost your powers. You'd sell your soul to be the most powerful mutant, wouldn't you?"  
  
I paused, knowing the strain of her mental hold was becoming too much for her.  
  
"You really want to know about Logan, isn't that right? You, who can't be happy with the adoration of just one man. You wanted to read my mind and find out if he has feelings for you, right?"  
  
Unable to sustain the energy, she dropped the mental barrier. She was gasping, exhausted as I stepped closer.  
  
"If you want to know what Logan wants and feels, go find him. Go talk to him yourself. Don't go creeping around my head. 'Cause if you do that again ... all bets are off. I WILL break you. Got it?"  
  
I poked her shoulder lightly, then turned my back on her to walk back to the desk. I knew she was seething with anger, but so was I. Something about Jean has rubbed me the wrong way from day 1 and I wasn't about to back down from her now that I had the means to protect myself. I picked up my books and walked out casually, her eyes drilling into my back the entire time.  
  
Jean and I will never be comfortable around each other now, but I couldn't be bothered with that now. Before any medical research could begin, the professor had to extract Siren's personality from my head. It was not easy, it wasn't without pain, and when she was out, I realized I missed her. She had a steely resolve and courage that I admired. She was confident and self-assured. She also hated me. At first.   
  
Once back in her own body, Siren recovered slowly, working her way out of the coma day by day. When she was conscious again, she tried to spit in my face. I didn't blame her. The professor is working with her, counseling her, and slowly her anger at me has subdued somewhat. She is no longer a mutant, thanks to me. She's lost her idenity. The professor has asked her to stay at the school anyway and she's agreed. Unlike Jean, I hope one day to be friends with Siren.  
  
Time passed and aside from the occasional 'tensions' with Jean, my research came along nicely. I knew the Professor had shown other people ways to control their powers with mental ability, but that sort of control wouldn't work with me. When your skin touches something, your brain receives and interprets the signal in fractions of a second. It's an automactic response and one I didn't want to control. I *want* to feel things, I don't want to block all of my sensations from my skin. No, we're talking about controlling and altering my DNA. You can't do that with your mind, no matter how hard you try. Besides, I don't want to be fighting something when I'm touching Logan. I want to give myself over entirely to the sensations and not have to worry about my control slipping. No, my hope lies in medicine, not mind control.  
  
The research has revealed the following to me: There are three basic layers of skin and the layers are in a constant state of replenishment from underneath. The bottom layer of skin is pushed up as the top layers flake off or are rubbed off. In our research, we determined that the top layer, mostly dead, wasn't the carrier of the DNA signal. We had to assume then, it was either the bottom or the middle layer.  
  
Medical research is difficult enough to begin with, but remember, my skin is now nearly impervious - that means needles and knives can't make a dent. I can't even offer up a skin sample, only the dead skin cells that flake off during the day. Whenever we wanted to test something, it's all or nothing on my entire body.  
  
In the months that passed, I also worked to become a full-fledged member of the X-men. In between my medical research, I trained with other members to harness my new skills and make then work most effectively. I enjoyed the physical exersion and began to feel like I was a part of the team. Jean was suspiciously absent when I worked out ... but I didn't care.  
  
Logan managed to call me every now and again, and I treasured each call. I tried to memorize them, the inflections of his voice, his jokes, his laugh. During one of his calls, he introduced me to the delicious notion of phone sex. It started out innocently enough when he asked what I was doing. I told him I was in bed, which was true, and he made a noise of pleasure that rippled through me as well.  
  
"What are you wearing, Marie?" he asked. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the bed. His rich rumbling voice alone was enough to stir my body and when he said my name, I knew I was gone. How could I not touch myself when his voice urged me and my mind raced with thoughts of him doing the same?  
  
Our 'special' phone calls always lifted my spirits and made my other tasks easier to bear - the X-men work was getting harder. We were getting more and more information about an anti-mutant organization called Americans for Purity. They believe mutants are an abomination of God's image and in dire need of purging off the planet. They had no tolerance for us and were growing increasing violent.  
  
Everything went to hell when we heard they had kidnapped some children. A young brother and sister they suspected were mutants. The Americans for Purity had followed them home from school and plucked them right off the street. We didn't know where they were and were afraid of what they'd do to the children.  
  
I volunteered to go undercover to a bar some of the members were rumored to hang out. The professor was worried about my safety but I just brushed aside his fears.  
  
"They can't hurt me, Professor, but they can hurt those kids."  
  
I dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a shirt that could have stood some more buttons and parked myself in the bar. I laughed to myself thinking about the last time I'd been in a sleezy bar. Oh, where was Logan now? What would he think about what I'm about to do?  
  
When I recognized the suspect, it wasn't difficult to get him to buy me some drinks. I took a big chance not wearing gloves but I couldn't risk the suspect thinking I had something to hide. Luckily, he didn't register too high up on the intelligence meter and was easily distracted by some well-supported mammory glands. I casually suggested he might want to give me a ride and he was more than eager to help me out. What a guy.  
  
His pickup truck, decorated with Purity flags and other non-tolerance themed stickers, had a shotgun over the bench seat. I made note of it, but wasn't too worried. I asked, casually, if there was some place quiet we could go. Thinking with his 'big' brain, he pulled the truck off the road into some trees and positioned himself for some 'lovin.'  
  
I convinced him we'd have more room out on the ground and after a moment of hesitation, he agreed. I noted a knife on his belt. Casually, I laughed at his joke about how big he was and without missing a beat, I pulled about a 9mm handgun from under my shirt. He wasn't taking me serious as I ordered him onto the ground, so I used the butt of the gun against his shoulder and kicked his legs out from under him. I was determined not to use my mutant abilities against him. I couldn't let him report that a mutant had attacked him - that would only add more fuel to their hatred of us.  
  
He assumed the position - on his knees, back to me, hands behind his head - and started to question me.   
  
"I'll ask the questions. Where are kids?"  
  
"What? What are you talkin' about?"  
  
"I'm not good with repeating myself," I cocked the gun, "so listen carefully. Where are the kids? Brian and Sarah."  
  
He started cursing me, calling me every slur he could think of. Mutie-lover was my favorite. I pushed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.  
  
"You're talking a lot but not saying what I want to hear."  
  
He told me to do something physically impossible and then he shut up. I sighed.  
  
"Ok, the hard way. I'm going to introduce you to a level of pain you never knew existed. Shall we start with the legs?" I fired one round into his upper left thigh. He clutched the wound with both hands and started swearing profusely.  
  
"I *will* find them, you know ... but it would be a lot quicker if you told me now. I won't waste my time asking you a second time."  
  
Another bout of swearing. I fired a round into his upper right thigh. He rolled on his side, swearing, cursing, trying to stem the flow of blood.  
  
I crouched down behind him.  
  
"You're loyal, that's commendable. But I'm on a mission and your loyalty means nothing to me." I used the tip of the barrel of my gun to lift the back of his shirt. I pressed the barrel of the gun against his spine.  
  
"Do you feel that? In about eight seconds, you won't. The bullet will shatter your spinal column. You won't feel anything below your chest - not your legs, not your feet, not even your dick."  
  
He broke then, like I knew he would and begged me not to shoot. He started babbling, telling me where they had the kids. He told me how many there were, how many guns they had. He swore the kids were still alive.  
  
I raised the gun and cracked it along the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. The professor would definately not approve of my methods. What a break he'll never find out. I picked up the now unconscious body, put it in the truck and drove it to the closest hospital. I honked the horn to get someone's attention, then disappeared in the night sky. I radioed back to the Professor where the kids were.  
We rescued the kids without harm to them and returned them to their parents.   
  
Some days, you're glad to be one of the good guys. Some days, you hope you can remember what makes a good guy.  
  
  
-- 


	11. Hope

Seventeen Years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 11  
  
  
So there I was: Siren was back where she belonged, I was part of the X-men, Jean knew I loathed her, the research was going good ... and I was really missing Logan. But I was about to get a nice surprise.  
  
Two days before my 20th birthday, I received a phone message from Logan. He asked me to meet him at a bed and breakfast in Albany. There, we spent a leisurely weekend together, enjoying each other's company. Still unable to consumate anything physically, we improvised pretty well between sheets of handwoven silk.   
  
Lying in his arms, I started to chuckle to myself. He looked at me questioningly until I explained.  
  
"I just realized .... I'm still a virgin. Technically." He grinned, the grin I love so much, and pulled me closer into his arms.  
  
"Not for much longer." he whispered.  
  
Hope. I finally had hope that what was between Logan and me would be able to blossom to its rightful stage. We had a certain level of affection that seemed to be waiting for the moment when it could be made real. If my research panned out, I was hoping for some time soon.  
  
No, he didn't stay long. He left me with a birthday gift of a silver bracelet, a tender hug and a promise to see me soon. I returned to the school. I thought to myself that perhaps it was difficult for him to be around me, but I never asked him.   
  
A year passed almost without notation. Well, all except Logan's visits became more frequent. I noted it mentally but never said anything outright. I was only too glad to welcome him every time.   
  
I do recall the first time Logan and Jean were together since I returned from looking for him. Logan was visiting me - he never stayed at the mansion, always at a hotel - waiting for me to join him for a long weekend. Jean rounded a corner and bumped into him. On purpose? I don't know. She couldn't have known I was witness to the whole thing; I watched and waited to see what would happen.  
  
"Logan! Logan, what are you doing here? When did you get back?" She was smiling, excited.  
  
Logan shifted to one foot and looked at her.  
  
"I'm not back. I'm here for Marie."  
  
She blinked and nodded.  
  
"Well you look great! Where have you been? Have you found anything ... about your past?"  
  
He paused, shifted again.  
  
"No. I haven't found anything new." He looked agitated.  
  
"I ... I missed you." she said quietly. I tensed up.  
  
He looked at her sharply.  
  
"You missed me? How could you - What does Scott have to say about that? No, never mind, I don't want to know. I hope you're happy, Jean. I really do. Excuse me."   
  
He moved past her and started down the hallway away from her. My heart swelled. I went out a side door and met up with him in the driveway. When he saw me, he smiled and opened his arms. I couldn't help running toward them and thrilled when he squeezed me tight, lifting me off the ground. Does it get much better than that?  
  
So the year passed and my only great discovery was a radiation combination which appeared to have some affect on my skin. The trick was finding the right dosage. My 21st birthday came and went without a cure. We celebrated with a suitable drinking binge and party, but that night, in the dark, I let a few tears slide while Logan held me.  
  
"I thought ... for some reason ... I thought I'd be better by now, you know? 21, an adult ... I thought we'd be together. You know?"   
  
He held me close and didn't need to say anything.   
  
As luck would have it, my 21st year *was* important. Logan was gone again and I was back to research when we had a breakthrough. We discovered that it was impossible to change my DNA permanently - a crushing blow for me. BUT! But we found it was possible to kill the rampant DNA in the lower layers of my skin! This would mean that until my skin regenerated its lower layers, I would be 'cured'!  
  
Our first live test, however, didn't go well. We overburned my skin with radiation and my skin started to die off. We'd forgotten that the cells needed some direction when we killed off the DNA. We had to find a way to leave the RNA - a more primative version of DNA - alive. After some tinkering, we were ready to test our new improved proceedure for me.  
  
The proceedure goes like this: I have to stand in a small chamber, similar to a shower stall, and be bombarded by radiation while I'm naked. We found clothing stopped some of the UV rays we needed for the 'cocktail' of radiation. Next, we needed a test subject to see if the bombardment worked. The ONLY person besides Logan I wanted in my head, was the Professor. He graciously agreed to allow me to touch him briefly. If it didn't work, he'd have the strength to push me off if I didn't.  
  
X-Day. That's what I called it. I took my radiation shower, changed into a robe, and walked over to the Professor. Deep breath.  
  
"Ready?" I asked. "Yes" he said.  
  
10:07am I reached out and touched his hand, resting on his wheelchair. I tensed up, waited for the pull to begin. And waited. And waited. I whooped with joy as a full minute passed and nothing happened. I danced around the room, tears of joy streaming down my face.   
  
"Oh God! Yes! Yes!" I hugged the Professor and kissed his cheek. Still no adverse reaction. We then started a timer. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. One hour. Six hours. Eight hours and 10 minutes. I couldn't sleep that night as the realization of my dreams came true. For eight hours and 10 minutes I'd been normal!  
  
I called Logan that evening and asked if he could come. He guessed right away why I was asking.   
  
"You've found a cure?!?"  
  
"We think so! Can you come down?"  
  
"Yeah, of course! Of course! I'll be there -" he paused "-tonight. I'll be there tonight. About five hours, ok?"   
  
"Ok. Alright. I'll see you tonight then. I - I'll see you soon."  
  
I hung up the phone and looked around. Somehow, everything looked different. I couldn't get my head around the fact that soon ... so soon ... I'd be realizing my dreams.  
  
I showered, did my hair, picked a nice dress and called the bed and breakfast for a reservation that night. The hours slowly - s-l-o-w-l-y ticked by as I waited for Logan. When four hours and 30 minutes had passed, I went back to the lab for another dose. I took the radiation shower with a huge smile plastered on my face. I dressed with nervous trembling hands, my eyes constantly straying to the clock on the wall. Too anxious to wait inside, I went outside to wait for him.  
  
It was nearing midnight. It was quiet outside, a couple of crickets and grasshoppers were the only noise. The professor and the others had graciously allowed me to have this moment with Logan alone. Then, I heard it. His motorcycle. I saw the headlight pierce the night as he negotiated the street and up the driveway. The motorcycle had barely come to a halt when he was off, running toward me.   
  
He stopped, breathless, his eyes wide and wild, searching my face.  
  
"Is it true?"  
  
Smiling, tears flowing fully, I reached up an ungloved hand and stroked his cheek. He covered my hand with his own and I felt his own tears against my fingers.  
  
"Logan," I whispered and brought my other hand up to his face. He pulled me into his arms and squeezed me tight saying my name over and over. Then, he kissed me. Long and hard. My first real kiss! He hugged me again and swung me around, laughing and crying at the same time.  
  
"Let's go" I said quietly. I picked up my overnight bag and joined him on the back of his bike. I clutched his waist and pressed my cheek against his back as we raced toward the small bed and breakfast. Occasionally he'd press his hand over mine. It seemed to be on the other side of the world; I thought we'd never get there.  
  
---  



	12. At Long Last

Seventeen Years and 58 seconds  
Chapter 12  
  
  
The longest ride of my life was that ride to get to the bed and breakfast. When we made the turn up their driveway, I was ready to fly off the bike and up to our room. When we got to the room, it was a flurry of clothing flying off. I went into the bathroom to change into the nightie I'd brought and when I came out, I found the room bathed in the glow of candles (graciously supplied by the management). Logan stood at the foot of the bed in only a pair of pajama bottoms.  
  
I felt my knees buckle at the sight of Logan - gorgeous, virile, gruff and buff - standing there, waiting for me. His eyes were locked on me and what little I was wearing. I was wearing a short white satin nightie that seemed to glow off my skin.  
  
As I walked toward him, three short steps, the thought kept racing through my mind. Is this real? I'm not just imagining this? I've imagined this moment a thousand times and now it's real. For six hours and 23 more minutes.  
  
He kissed me gently, softly, tasting me, his hands busy elsewhere. I ran my hands through his hair, pressing my body against his. He kissed my neck, nipping me lightly and I clenched my fingers at the delicious sensation. His hands were caressing my back, sliding over the satin of my nightie. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down gently. I quickly got up on my knees and while he was still standing beside the bed, I pulled off the nightie. He started at me for a heartbeat then removed his own clothing.   
  
He climbed onto the bed and knelt so that we were facing each other. I couldn't catch my breath as I stared at his naked body. I couldn't stop myself from touching it, tasting it, caressing it. His hands and mouth did the same to me, caressing me and bringing me so much pleasure I could barely stand it.   
  
We lay down and when his hands skimmed over my body, I couldn't lie still. I was writhing with 21 years of sexual frustration and here was the man who was going to release it, fulfill it, embody it. His mouth teased my breasts as his hand dipped between my legs. I bucked my hips against his clever fingers, gasping and moaning incomprehensible noises.  
  
He moved over me and I felt his erection, hot and hard, press against my hips. I struggled to get closer, moving and urging him with my body. He used his leg to part my legs and readied my hips for him. He cupped my face with his other hand and kissed me with intense passion. Then, he paused and locked eyes with me. He stroked my cheek and rubbed my lip with his thumb.  
  
"I love you, Marie." He closed his eyes and kissed me gently.  
  
"I love you too, Logan."  
  
He smiled almost to himself and pushed his hips against mine. Like a hot knife, he entered me and completed me. I cried out against the unexpected pain and pleasure. I was unprepared for the feeling of him inside me, thrusting. His name poured out of me over and over as his body taught mine the infinite levels of pleasure available. We rolled around on the bed, anxious and feverish in our need to please each other. I came again and again, my body singing under his touch. When he came, I caught my breath and thought to myself there was no better sound than the sound of him in the throes of passion.  
  
We lay in each other's arms, for once with no barriers between us. He nuzzled my neck and rested his head against mine, his eyes closed.  
  
"I love you" he whispered again.  
  
Fresh tears stung my eyes but I didn't mind. What better momment was there for tears of joy than this?  
  
"I never knew .... didn't know it could be like this." He squeezed me close and kissed me thoroughly.  
  
"How much time do we have left?" he asked. I'd explained on the way over about the time limit. I looked at the clock on the side table and groaned.  
  
"Three hours"  
  
"Give me fifteen minutes and we'll start again, alright?" he smiled and I shook my head at his bravado.  
  
"We don't have to rush tonight. We know we have time now. On our terms. When can you come home again?"  
  
There was a long silence and I worried if I'd said something wrong. Did it bother him that I'd said New York was home? Did he think I was getting too clingy? I turned my head to look at him and found he was trying to hold back some tears. He touched my cheek softly.  
  
"YOU ... YOU are my home, Marie. Your lips, your hands, your eyes ... your heart. That's home to me."  
  
I didn't try to stop the tears as they fell.   
  
He reached over and opened a drawer on the side table and pulled out a small black velvet box. My heart caught in my throat and I suddenly couldn't breathe. He cleared his throat and seemed to be concentrating on remembering what he wanted to say.  
  
"From the moment we met, you've managed to find a way into my heart when I thought it was long dead. Sweet, beautiful, sometimes firey Marie. I can't imagine a day without your laugh. I can't imagine living without you. I don't have much to offer but everything I have and am is yours. I love you, Marie. Will you marry me?"  
  
He opened the box and revealed a gorgeous diamond ring nestled inside. But all I could see was him.  
  
"Yes. Yes! Of cuorse, yes!" He slipped the ring on my finger and we kissed to seal the moment.  
  
---  
  
That was two years ago. Logan and I were married in a beautiful ceremony that included my parents. By tweaking the doses we've been able to extend my 'cure' to almost four full days. Logan and I honeymooned in Hawaii but I can't say we made it out to the beach much. We purchased a house about 20 miles from the mansion, deep in the lush woodlands. The professor has told me it's possible for Logan and I to have a child together with the help of gene therapy. I look forward to the day I have our children, but for now we're content to have each other. Logan has officially joined the X-men but has not given up looking for the pieces of his past. He still doesn't like Scott and I still don't get along with Jean.   
  
The future is wide open now, I have no more demons to haunt me. At night, I lay my head on my husband's chest and feel his heart beating ... beating for me. I was once so lost in despair I couldn't see the promise of the future. Now, I have everything to live for.  
  
  
  
'Hope is good thing, maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies.'  
-- 'The Shawshank Redemption 


End file.
